


a ghost with a beating heart

by Anonymous



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Actually it's more like Content ending, Anger, Angst with a Happy Ending, Anorexia, Canon Compliant, Depression, Eating Disorder Not Otherwise Specified, Eating Disorders, Fix-It of Sorts, Keith (Voltron) Angst, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Not Beta Read, Post-Season/Series 08, Recovery, Suicidal Ideation, There isn't really any romance here., This fic is about getting worse, Vomiting, and then slowly getting better, and worse, vent fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-29
Updated: 2020-07-29
Packaged: 2021-03-06 03:55:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,204
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25587049
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Haunted by the memory of Allura, Keith loses himself in a downward spiral.-“Are you okay?” Allura asks. She’s more than an outline this time.“Yes,” Keith answers, and the lie tastes like ashes.
Relationships: Keith/Shiro (Voltron)
Comments: 22
Kudos: 115
Collections: Anonymous





	a ghost with a beating heart

**Author's Note:**

> Hello.
> 
> This is something I wrote over the span of 3 days. It's a mess, and it's not perfect, but that's how life is. There's not really much of a romance between Keith and Shiro, but I tagged them anyways because it is also somewhat about Keith and Shiro. This isn't a pretty fic. This might not even make sense. But I poured it out of my brain and now here it is! I basically did whatever I wanted!
> 
> All of the stuff in here, Keith's thoughts and Keith's experiences, are loosely based off of my own. I have an eating disorder that I deal with off and on, and I currently relapsed which led me to write this vent fic. Some of the stuff in here is also loosely inspired by the book Wintergirls, and the title is a line from that book as well!
> 
> I hope you're all doing well, and you find some comfort in this fic. If you're struggling too, you can absolutely reach out or just pour your thoughts into a comment. Whatever's good with you. Just know that I'm here for you, and I understand.
> 
> This is also for a friend. I don't know if they'll ever read this or see it, but I also started writing this with them in mind. Thank you.

> ❝ there’s another being inside him  
>  and it hides behind his ribs.   
>  it feasts upon his flesh, his bones,   
>  and then consumes his soul.   
>  it leaves behind an empty husk   
>  and then goes back for more. ❞
> 
> \- _he hopes there’s nothing left // v_
> 
> ❄ ❄ ❄

It starts like this.

Keith’s running on fumes by the end of the day and just barely manages to drag himself to bed, burying his face in his pillow and groaning. His work with the Blades is running him ragged, but he doesn’t regret coming out here. He feels like he’s doing something important, helping others and making the universe a better place for everyone.

Despite the heavy workload, it’s good work and he enjoys it.

(At least, that’s what he tells himself.)

Keith sighs and rolls onto his back, rubbing his aching chest while he stares up at the ceiling. Even though he’s exhausted, he knows that he won’t be able to sleep for a while and if he does manage to sleep, his dreams will be plagued with nightmares.

His stomach twists with hunger, reminding him that he forgot to eat today. Keith’s too tired to get up and grab something, and he also knows that trying to put anything into his mouth is futile. Everything tastes like ash in his mouth, and his mind fights him over any bite of food, making it feel like lead in his stomach, weighing him down with every step.

He shuts his eyes and imagines the stars he used to live under, the constellations he could trace in his sleep. It’s his go-to method for calming his brain, and he eventually does relax, his brain finally empty.

 _Keith,_ a familiar voice whispers, gentle and sweet.

Keith stiffens, shaking his head. _My mind’s playing tricks on me,_ he tells himself, grief rising in his head. _She’s not here, she’s not._

 _I’m here,_ the voice assures.

“You’re not,” Keith says, eyes burning. “You’re _gone,_ Allura.”

And suddenly, Allura’s standing in front of him, still looking like she did the day they lost her. “But I’m still here,” she argues. “I’m still in this universe. I’m not _dead._ ”

“You may as well be,” Keith retorts, covering his ears and turning away. “I don’t want to hear this anymore. I don’t want to hear _you_ anymore, Allura. I know you’re not real.”

One by one, the stars blink out and leave him in an endless void. There’s nothing out here, and the silence that surrounds him is oppressive. He feels weighed down by something and gladly falls to his knees, hands buried in black, sticky sludge that forces him to stay there.

“I’m as real as you are,” Allura says in his ears. He feels hair brushing against his cheek, smells the scent of juniberries, and imagines that she’s right beside him, but when he looks over he sees nothing.

“But I’m not real either,” Keith whispers. Because he’s not, he hasn’t been for a while. He’s been going through the motions, pretending to be a person when there’s _nothing_ inside him, just an empty void that’s consuming him.

“Keith,” Allura says, and the sludge starts dragging him down. “You’re as real as me.”

“No,” he mutters, shutting his eyes. “Leave me alone!”

“Keith...”

“Keith.”

“ _Keith!_ ”

He startles awake, seeing the concerned eyes of his mother. Keith slowly sits up and shakes his head, dissipating the fog. “Yeah?” he wonders, slowly pushing himself up. “What’s wrong?”

“Hmm.” Her mouth twists. “You slept in again.”

“Sorry,” he murmurs, averting his gaze.

“Still not sleeping well?”

Keith shakes his head, grimacing when sweat makes hair stick to his face. He’s sticky all over, actually. “I’m gonna hop into the shower really quick,” he tells her, already turning away. “And then I’ll start distributing supplies.”

A hand rests itself on his back, and Keith barely refrains from flinching. “Are you okay?” his mother asks, still looking concerned. “You can talk to me, Keith.”

“I’m fine,” Keith lies. “Just had a bad dream.”

Krolia’s mouth purses, like she doesn’t believe him, but thankfully she lets it go. “I saved you some breakfast,” she says, nodding at the plate sitting on his desk. “I’ll see you in a bit.” And with that, she walks out of his room and leaves him alone.

Keith sighs in relief and works on peeling himself out of last night’s uniform, heading for the restroom. He pauses at his desk, staring down at the food (some kind of mash with the local fruit), and his stomach churns with nausea. Keith sighs and picks up the plate, taking it with him into the bathroom. He only feels slightly guilty while he’s dumping it into the trash chute, but it’s burnt out by the satisfaction of not allowing himself to eat.

A real person deserves to eat, and Keith’s definitely not that.

❄ ❄ ❄

Keith’s first obstacle comes into play when he meets with the other Paladins, all of them gathering under Allura’s statue at New Altea. Even though the statue’s looking off into the distance, he swears he can feel the weight of her stare burning a hole into the back of his head.

“Keith!” Hunk happily exclaims, dragging him into a hug when he’s close. “It’s so good to see you!”

“It’s good to see you too,” Keith replies with an easy smile, wrapping his arms around him. “Sorry I couldn’t say hi during my last mission, I had to watch over the Prince’s son.”

“It’s fine,” Hunk says, waving his hand when he pulls away. “I heard that you saved him from an assassination attempt! That’s way more important than talking to little ol’ me.” He beams, wrapping a hand around his wrist and dragging him over to the empty table. Looks like he was early. “Come on! Everyone else should be here soon!”

Keith has to stand up to greet the rest of their friends when they arrive, lingering with Lance after he takes note of the dark circles under his eyes. He keeps his hug with Shiro short and quick, and doesn’t even bother looking at him when they’re seated next to each other.

Dinner goes well. Keith smiles and laughs in all the right places, distracting himself with conversation so food doesn’t have to go into his mouth. He feels out of place while he’s doing all of this, like he’s about to fly out of his body and leave behind the fake that’s pretending to be his former self. He sneaks most of his food to his space wolf, who’s curled up beside him, when no one’s looking, and yet the back of his neck tingles—someone’s watching him, but when he looks around the table he sees no one looking his way.

Hunk worries over his plate but Keith assures him that it was delicious, that he’s fine. He tells Hunk that he had a space protein bar on the way over, and that’s why he couldn’t finish it. Hunk understands, of course, since those bars are designed to fill you up with just one square, and wraps some extras up for Keith to eat whenever.

“A midnight snack, maybe,” Hunk suggests with a smile, to which Keith responds with a vague nod.

(He already knows that he’s not going to eat it.)

Kosmo faithfully trots alongside him as he makes his way into his room. The Castle on New Altea is so similar to the old Castle-ship, and it includes rooms for all of the Paladins.

He stops outside the door to his room and stares down the hall, wondering if there’s a room for Allura. Does it have those soft, fluffy blankets that she loves? A bunch of pillows for her comfort? Is there a closet full of her dresses?

“Keith,” a voice says, and his eyes widen. He spins around, readying himself to see Allura, and finds himself looking at Shiro.

“Oh,” Keith says, heart racing for a different reason. “Hi, Shiro.”

Shiro stares at him with a look of concern. “You okay?” he asks.

“I’m fine,” Keith says, waving it off. “You just scared me.” He looks down at his wolf, who sits beside him, patient and protective. “I’m gonna get some sleep,” he tells Shiro, moving past him. Keith pauses at the door, and makes the mistake of looking over at him and asking, “Did you need something?”

“Uh, yeah.” Shiro rubs the back of his neck, looking sheepish. “I just wanted to talk to you, if that’s okay.”

“About what?” Keith asks plainly, leaning against the wall. His stomach churns again, saliva pooling in his mouth and acid rising in his throat. He quickly swallows it, hating that he’s so anxious around Shiro now. 

“Oh, um…” Shiro glances down the hall and back. “Can we talk in your room? I don’t want anyone to overhear.” He gives a half-smile and shrugs. “Kinda private.”

Keith clicks his tongue and turns away, resting his palm on the scanner. The door slides open and he impatiently gestures toward it, waiting for Shiro to go in before following with the wolf. The room lights up upon entry, and Keith moves further into the room, placing the plate of food on the one table that’s in there before taking a seat on the edge of the bed. His stomach rolls again when he glances at Shiro, and he stares over the man’s shoulder instead.

“What do you want to talk about?” he asks.

Shiro looks awkward, and looks so out of place in his room. Keith knows it’s because they haven’t been alone like this in so long, and that all of their conversations are usually greetings, with both of them not saying another word to each other unless it’s about their jobs (especially since Shiro went back to the Garrison, he knows that much).

After a longer silence, Keith sighs. “If you’ve got nothing to say, then please leave,” he says shortly. “I’m really tired and I need to be up early to head back to base.”

“No, sorry, it’s just—” Shiro bites his lip in a manner that Keith would have once found cute (still does, a little, but he pushes that feeling away; it has no place here). “Are you okay?” Shiro blurts out.

Keith rears back, a little surprised. “Uh, yeah? Why do you ask?”

“Just a feeling…” Shiro mutters, taking a deep breath. “Sorry, I wanted to ask if we were, uh, okay? I guess?” He smiles weakly.

Keith stares at the man who gave up on him even when he promised that he wouldn’t, who tossed their friendship aside and didn’t say a word to Keith for almost a year—the man who broke his heart and didn’t even know it.

“What do you think?” he questions carelessly, and he figures that he should feel something when he sees Shiro flinch but he just feels… nothing.

“What can I do to fix it?” Shiro asks quietly.

“I think we’re too broken to fix,” Keith replies honestly and again, feels nothing at the hurt he sees on Shiro’s face. 

(But there’s a part of him, buried so long ago, that does feel _something_ at the sight of Shiro’s pain, and it writhes in agony, desperate to make things right between them. Keith refuses to let it resurface, but Shiro’s proximity makes it harder to keep it suppressed.)

And then, there’s stubborn determination on Shiro’s face. “We’ll see,” he says, and leaves the room.

Keith’s tempted to throw his pillow at the door in frustration, but the small conversation left him tired. He sighs and gets up, slowly changing into his pajamas and going through his bedroom routine. Keith catches sight of the plate of leftover food and frowns.

He ignores it, like he ignores all of his problems

❄ ❄ ❄

Keith leaves early in the morning, not wanting to deal with everyone (mostly Shiro). It seems like he’s out of luck because once he walks into the hangar, he spies Shiro leaning against one of the crates near his ship.

And he can’t sneak past him to start the ship because he’ll hear that…

With a sigh, Keith makes his way over and nudges Shiro with his foot. Waiting for Shiro to wake up before asking, “Why are you here?”

“Wanted to say bye,” Shiro murmurs with a yawn, slowly pushing himself up. Keith winces internally when he hears bones cracking. “Wanted to catch you before you snuck away.”

“Okay, well. Bye.” Keith tries to move past him and is stopped by Shiro’s hand on his shoulder.

“Bye, Keith,” Shiro says warmly, like Keith hasn’t been responding with animosity during their conversations. “Stay safe out there, take care of yourself.”

“You too,” Keith forces out, heading into the ship with Kosmo. He’s tense as he starts up the ship, very aware of Shiro’s eyes on him. He relaxes when he’s out of New Altea’s bounds, plotting a course towards the Blades base.

He sets it on autopilot after a while, staring out into the vast openness of space. It’s so dark and empty, and Keith’s struck with an intense feeling of loneliness. He places a hand on his chest and curls in on himself, overwhelmed by it, and lets out a ragged breath.

The smell of juniberries floods the cockpit, and Keith whimpers. He raises his head and finds himself surrounded by stars, millions of twinkling lights that make his eyes burn a little. Keith whirls around, freezing when he spies Allura standing a few feet away. She’s very translucent—he can easily look through her and see the stars.

“Not real,” Keith whispers. “Not real, not real, _not real._ ”

“Real,” Allura says serenely, moving closer. “Voltron needs their leader, Keith.”

“There is no Voltron,” he replies, looking away from her. Even though she’s just a manifestation of his grief (he hopes), he can’t help but talk to her. “The Lions are gone, and the Paladins are drifting.”

“Voltron will always exist in us. All of us. No matter where we go, we’ll always be able to make our way back to each other.”

Keith frowns and looks back at her, seeing that she’s no more than an outline of white. “What does that mean?” he asks.

Allura’s laugh surrounds him, and the smell of juniberries grows faint. Whatever she says next comes out warped and staticy, the stars slowly going out until he’s left in a void. And then, he’s falling, falling, falling…

He opens his eyes and finds himself staring up at the ceiling of the cockpit, sitting up in a daze. “Wha…” Keith mumbles, realizing that he must have fallen out of his chair.

The wolf nudges his side when Keith finally sits up, gazing at him worriedly. Keith pets through his fur, wondering why his hands are shaking so much, and lets out a breath. “M’fine,” he murmurs, burying his face in the wolf’s fur. “Really.”

He forces himself to eat two bites of Hunk’s leftover platter before giving the rest to his wolf, feeling it sit in his stomach. Keith’s very aware of it and he feels like they’re spreading throughout his system, poisoning him, dragging him down.

“I’m not real,” he reminds himself, and focuses on flying.

(If his head ends up in the toilet after a tight turn, no one’s around to see it.)

❄ ❄ ❄

There’s something about the emptiness that Keith enjoys.

He wakes up, and there’s nothing in his stomach. He goes about his day, and there’s nothing in his stomach. He trains, and there’s nothing in his stomach. He goes over mission details with his team, and there’s nothing in his stomach. He takes video calls from his friends, and there’s nothing in his stomach. He goes to bed at the end of the day, and there’s nothing in his stomach.

Keith will drink water, of course, because water is safe. Water is clean and pure, and it fills him up in a way that allows him to avoid food. If he does end up eating (when his mother’s looking, when his friends are looking), then he’ll chug, chug, chug some water, hoping that it’ll wash away the impurities he let in.

Besides that, empty is good. He imagines his stomach all shiny and pink, a perfect image that he doesn’t want to ruin. Keith strives for that feeling every day, something he can control in his otherwise imperfect life.

The only time he’s okay with eating is when he’s going to fly, because he never wants to give that up (and he learned from his previous flight, where he imagined he saw Her). He’ll only eat a couple of bites of something, and another thing, maybe snack on something small, and then he’s good to go. Those bits and pieces make their way down his throat and into his stomach, and he imagines them lodging into different spots inside him, ready to kill him at any moment.

But even then, he struggles. 

Every bite is hard to get through and it nearly makes him cry. He’s very aware of the taste on his tongue, of what he’s chewing, of the sensation of it travelling through him. It’s easy to forget about it when he’s flying, focused on weaving through space and towards his destination, but those few minutes of eating are still hard.

He starts to see light in places it never touched—the space between his thighs, in the small openings when he’s crossing his arms, between his thin fingers whenever he shields his eyes.

His hips start jutting out, and his collarbones are more prominent. When he looks in the mirror, he can see his cheekbones better, and his jawline is easier to see. Keith often leans forward and reaches behind to feel the knobs of his spine, and also lifts his shirts to count his ribs.

He loves it.

Keith still sees Allura when he closes his eyes, smells juniberries whenever he’s alone, and scowls at any message he receives from Shiro, but other than that… he’s happy.

(And then, it gets worse.)

❄ ❄ ❄

“Are you okay?” his mother asks, gazing at him with concern after their spar.

“Yes,” Keith answers and knows that he’ll have a large bruise on his side later.

“Are you okay?”Acxa asks, gazing at him cautiously from across the table.

“Yes,” Keith answers, stirring his food around to make it look like he ate.

“Are you okay?” Pidge asks during their video call, peering at him through her glasses.

“Yes,” Keith answers from the floor, heart still beating fast after his set of crunches.

“Are you okay?” Hunk asks during a diplomatic meeting, the two of them finally in the same place for once.

“Yes,” Keith answers, denying any offer of food. He can’t eat on the job.

“Are you okay?” Lance asks after he lands on New Altea, staring at him through exhausted eyes.

“Yes,” Keith answers, pretending that he didn’t see a flash of long, white hair disappearing around the corner.

“Are you okay?” Shiro asks before dinner, gently gripping Keith’s elbow.

“Yes,” Keith answers through gritted teeth, wondering why everyone’s asking him.

He doesn’t eat anything during dinner, sipping on his water and watching as everyone chats around him. They look so happy and free, but just like him they’re weighed down by grief, by loss, by the choices they made during and after the war. Keith directs his stare to Allura’s statue and wonders if she’d be proud of them, if she’d appreciate the fact that they come together to honor her, or if she’d be disappointed in how spread apart they are, and how broken they all seem to be.

Or is it just him that’s broken?

“Keith.”

“Hmm?” Keith turns his head and fights back his scowl when he sees that it’s Shiro talking to him. “Yeah?” he drawls. “What do you need?”

Shiro points his fork at Keith’s plate—untouched, of course. “Are you going to eat that?”

Keith doesn’t even know what he’s pointing at, but he also doesn’t really care. “No,” he says, pushing the plate closer. “You can have it, if you want.”

Shiro smiles at him, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “Thanks,” he says, stabbing his fork into a piece of meat (Altean kind, he assumes) before dropping it onto his own plate. “You should have some,” Shiro says. “It’s really good.”

Keith would rather die, but he doesn’t say that. “Upset stomach,” he says instead.

“Another time, then,” Shiro says. He looks unhappy.

“Another time,” Keith echoes, hoping that it never happens.

He begs off dessert when Coran brings it out, using the excuse he gave Shiro. Keith promises to stay when Lance asks him to, claiming that he has something to tell everyone. He wonders why Lance didn’t just tell them at dinner, but figures that it has something to do with the news.

Keith curls up on his bed, a hand curled around his empty stomach, and wonders if he could someday go to sleep and never wake up again.

❄ ❄ ❄

They’re both floating in endless space, holding onto each other so they won’t drift away. Allura’s looks less like a ghost and more like a hologram, and Keith’s afraid that she’ll slip through her fingers—just like she slipped through the Paladins’ fingers on their last day together.

He smells juniberries in his helmet.

“Are you okay?” Allura asks. She’s more than an outline this time.

“Yes,” Keith answers, and the lie tastes like ashes.

❄ ❄ ❄

Keith wakes up early, wanting to run before he has to deal with everyone (namely, Shiro). 

Running is good for him. Much like flying, it clears his thoughts and allows him to have an empty head. He doesn’t have to think about breakfast, doesn’t have to think about being in Shiro’s presence, doesn’t have to think about the gaping hole in his chest, and the emptiness in his stomach. All he has to focus on is putting one foot in front of the other and make sure that he doesn’t trip.

He runs for an hour and then heads back to his room for a shower, already feeling a bit of a headache coming in. Keith leaves it be, for now, and makes his way to the table beneath Allura’s statue. There’s already food there, and Shiro’s the only other person sitting there.

“Where is everyone?” Keith wonders, taking a seat beside Shiro. Might as well _pretend_ that things are all right (he’s good at that).

“Coran’s talking to them,” Shiro replies, already halfway through a plate of food.

Keith acknowledges the information with a nod, and looks around, avoiding the statue for many reasons. He can see a few Alteans in the distance going about their day, some ships soaring in the sky, the juniberry flower fields that sway prettily in the wind, and a figure with white hair staring straight at him.

He blinks and rubs his eyes, squinting at the same spot. The figure’s gone, leaving Keith to think that it was just his imagination. There’s no way he could have seen her… 

“What are you looking at?”

Keith glances over at Shiro and shakes his head. “Nothing,” he murmurs, pouring himself a cup of water. He takes a sip and leans back against his chair, closing his eyes to enjoy the warmth from the suns. Keith’s been feeling colder lately.

“So, how have you been?”

“Fine,” Keith answers curtly. “Busy.”

“I bet.” Here, Shiro chuckles, fork scraping against the plate. Keith wonders what it’s like to eat without worry, to eat and not think about how the food is poisoning you, to eat and be real. Sounds exhausting, really. “Sounds like you’re doing well out there.”

Keith shrugs. “I guess.” Why is Shiro making conversation with him?

Things fall silent, and Keith hopes that Shiro got the hint, that he’d rather be left alone right now. Eventually, he hears Shiro clearing his throat and holds back a sigh, opening his eyes and frowning when Shiro slides a plate full of Altean meat over to him.

“You should eat something,” he says.

“Not hungry,” Keith replies.

Shiro frowns. “You didn’t eat last night,” he chides and pushes the plate closer. “It’s really good, I swear.”

“Not. Hungry,” Keith repeats, slower this time. Then, he pats his flat stomach. “Still upset.”

Shiro’s frown deepens. “You really need to eat, Keith.”

“Why are you so suddenly concerned about my eating habits?” Keith asks suspiciously. He takes a sip from his water and pointedly doesn’t look at Shiro. “I’ll eat what I want, not what you give me.”

“Which is nothing,” Shiro mutters.

Keith glares at him, fighting the panic that’s starting to well up. He can’t know, can he? “What’s your problem?” he hisses. The smell of food is making his stomach roll, and he scoots his chair back a little in hopes of easing it. “Can’t you just leave me alone?”

Shiro shoots him a piercing look. “Only when you eat,” he says plainly.

Irritation and rage blend together, a tidal wave that leaves him dizzy. He grabs his fork and stabs it into a piece of meat, shoving it into his mouth. “Like that, huh?” Keith asks, chewing his food. He shows the mess off on his tongue, delighting in Shiro’s grimace. “Yeah, that’s right. I’m eating, I’m fucking eating, just like you wanted!”

The meat is juicy in his mouth, and the taste awakens the hunger in his stomach, making it stretch his limbs before taking over his body. His hands reach out for more food and he’s suddenly out of his body, watching as food makes its way into his mouth. A roll with jam spread across it, a few grapes popped into his mouth, half of an omelette, crispy bacon, ham, more Altean meat—all of it shoveled into his mouth.

And then he’s back in his body, hands and mouth covered in food. Keith’s breathing raggedly, cheeks hurting from the strain of eating so much, and stomach rolling for a different reason. He meets Shiro’s horrified stare with his own wide-eyed one and pushes his chair back further, standing up fast enough to make him dizzy.

“I ate,” he says shakily, feeling like he grew two sizes. “Now leave me the fuck alone.”

Keith flees to the bathroom before Shiro can open his mouth, barely making it to the toilet before everything comes right back out.

❄ ❄ ❄

“I never wanted this for you,” Allura says mournfully, flickering in and out of existence.

Keith laughs, and laughs, and laughs. “I never wanted this for me either,” he says with a self-deprecating smile. “But here I am.”

❄ ❄ ❄

He wakes up to someone pounding on his door and groans, feeling sweaty and achy. Keith pushes himself up on shaky arms, glaring at the door. Until he realizes that he’s not in his room and that he’s, in fact, still in the bathroom. He must have dozed off for a moment.

Keith slowly rises, leaning against the sink as he opens the door. Lance stands on the other end, looking worried and annoyed.

“What?” Keith rasps out.

“You’ve been gone all morning!” Lance exclaims, brows drawing together. “I wanted to talk to all of you, remember?”

“Oh, right.” Keith blinks away the stars swimming in his vision. “Sorry. Not feelin’ good.”

“It’s fine,” Lance says, frowning. “Do you think you can make it back to the table?”

“Yeah,” Keith says, even though his knees shake. “Let me just clean up a little, okay?” He pauses and adds, “Wait for me?” If Lance stays, then Keith will have to go.

He quickly brushes his teeth, and then ducks his head to drink some water from the sink. It fills him up a little, sloshing around his stomach when he takes a less shaky step towards the door. Although it doesn’t completely take away the nausea, it does help him a little. At least there’s that.

Lance and Keith silently make their way out of the Castle and to the table that’s still under Allura’s statue. He sneaks a peek at Lance and catches sight of his look of grief as he gazes at her image, and quickly looks away. That’s not for him to see.

He nearly scowls when he sees there’s only one empty seat beside Shiro, and sinks into it with a small huff. Keith can feel Shiro’s stare burning into the side of his head, but he doesn’t look at the other man. He doesn’t want to see that horrified look from earlier, doesn’t want to leave himself open for a conversation about what Shiro just witnessed, doesn’t want to get into his behavior.

Keith’s fine. 

Fine,  
fine,   
fine,   
fine,   
fine,   
fine.   
F I N E.

He’s fine.

(There’s a voice in his head that whispers _liar._ )

“I’m sure you’re all wondering why I gathered you here today,” Lance begins dramatically, though the performance falls a little flat. Still, everyone smiles at him—like it’s funny and normal, like nothing’s wrong with him. “Especially months before our yearly meet-up.”

“Nothing wrong with that,” Hunk butts in. “I’m always happy to see you all!”

The others nod along, and Keith bobs his head robotically. Realistically, though, he knows that they’re all too busy to meet-up all the time, to be in each other’s presence like before. It’s also painful to be around them when he knows how quickly they fell apart, when he feels the distance between himself and Shiro so strongly, and when there’s an empty space between all of them that remains unnamed.

(Her statue looms over them, waiting, watching.)

Lance leans forward with a serious expression, the shadows under his eyes looking darker. “I think Allura’s out there,” he finally says in a hushed voice. “And I think we should go out and find her.”

Keith freezes in his seat. The others explode around him, demanding answers, wondering what Lance means, asking for more, more, more.

“I’ve been seeing her in my dreams,” Lance says loudly, raising his hands to try and calm their friends. “She’s been reaching out to me for a while, I think, but I wasn’t able to hear her before. Finally, she got through to me—she told me she’s out there, but she doesn’t have the energy to make it back on her own. We have to help her. We owe it to her.”

Everyone agrees, of course, and they start making plans to take time off work. Keith’s just sitting there, wide-eyed gaze directed at the table, heart beating fast. How long has she been trying to talk to Lance? How long will it take to get to her? Does that mean—

“Keith?”

Keith looks up and sees that everyone’s staring at him in concern. Lance’s eyes are narrowed, and his jaw is clenched. “What about you?” he asks, sounding irritated. “Are you with us, or not?”

He opens his mouth to agree, but what comes out is, “You’ve been seeing her too?”

The others freeze, and then a new round of questions start, all directed at him. Keith tries to make sense of it all, but his vision swims, and his head hurts.

Keith can hear distant, twinkling laughter, and the scent of juniberries surrounds him.

❄ ❄ ❄

After hashing out plans to stay at the Castle while they figure out a way to track down Allura, Keith shuffles his way to his room in a daze. He was able to answer their questions to the best of his abilities, but no one held it against him for not saying anything about seeing Allura in his dreams. They accepted that he thought it wasn’t real, and told him to let them know if it happened again (mainly, that if she said anything important that could help them).

A door opens when he gets to his own door and he sighs, turning to see Shiro standing in the hall. “What,” he says flatly, not in the mood to talk to him.

But Shiro’s got that look of stubborn determination on his face. “I want to talk to you,” he says.

“I’m too tired to talk.”

“We _need_ to talk.”

Keith lets out another sigh, slapping his hand against the scanner. “Fine,” he snaps, stomping into his room. He sits down on the edge of his bed and buries his hand in the wolf’s fur, who had been sleeping on his bed this whole time. 

Shiro enters the room and the door shuts behind him, staring at Keith while he leans against the wall. Keith glares back at him, chin up, daring him to say something.

And he takes that dare. “I want to talk about earlier,” Shiro says. “What was that?”

“What do you mean?”

“Don’t play dumb with me, Keith. Why’d you do that? What happened after you left?” His mouth twists. “Why do you have such a problem with food?”

“Why does it matter?” Keith retorts. “I’m fine, Shiro. It’s not your job to worry about me.”

“Maybe not anymore,” Shiro concedes, and he actually sounds _sad_ about it. “But I’m still going to worry about you, and watching you shovel so much food into your mouth and then you disappearing for a couple of hours would make anyone worry. Clearly, there’s something going on with you, Keith, and I want to know what it is.”

“Why?” 

“Because I care about you.”

Keith quickly stands up, blinking away the black spots in his vision. His hands curl into fists at his side, and he glares at Shiro. “No you don’t,” he hisses out. “Don’t lie to my face like that, Shiro. You don’t care about me, you _don’t._ ”

“I do,” Shiro insists.

“How can you say that?” Keith demands. “How can you say that when you treated me more like a subordinate than a friend? How can you say that when you gave up on our friendship, and gave up on me? How can you say that when you stopped talking to me? Huh? Tell me, Shiro. How can you care about me when you _clearly_ don’t?”

He’s shaking with anger, with dizziness, but he remains standing and keeps glaring at Shiro, breathing hard. Shiro stares back at him solemnly, guiltily, and then averts his gaze in shame (he hopes).

“I’m sorry for all of that, Keith,” Shiro begins quietly. “I’m sorry for all the pain I put you through. I didn’t mean for things to turn out like this, I didn’t mean to do this to you. I just wanted time to put myself together, time to figure my thoughts out, and I couldn’t look at you without remembering how I nearly cut your face in half.”

Keith raises his hand to his cheek, thumbing over his scar. “You could have asked for space,” he points out. “And I would have given it to you.”

“I know,” Shiro says quietly. “I just… I was lost, Keith. I couldn’t handle being around you. I was afraid that you’d see me for who I really was—a broken, pathetic man.”

“I would never,” Keith finds himself saying, some of his anger draining. Only some. “I used to think the best of you, Shiro.” The _‘not anymore’_ is implied. “I wouldn’t have judged you for that. We all got our fair share of problems during the war, too.” And after it. “And besides, the fight wasn’t your fault.”

“Yes, it was…”

“No, it wasn’t,” Keith shoots back. “It was Haggar. _She_ took control of you, _she_ made you do all of that against your will. It wasn’t you, it could never be you.” He lets out a breath. “Besides, even if it was your fault, I would have forgiven you for it a long time ago.”

Shiro says nothing, but Keith can see how he relaxes. Was that all he needed? Forgiveness for their fight? Could all of this been avoided if they actually _talked_ to each other before? Keith bites his tongue when anger washes over him again, and he tastes blood in his mouth.

“Is that all?” Keith wonders. “I want to nap.”

“No.” Shiro straightens up. “We have to talk about what happened earlier?”

“Why do we have to?” Keith deflects. “It wasn’t a big deal, Shiro. You just pissed me the fuck off and I was trying to prove a point. Just leave it at that.” _Just leave me alone._

Shiro’s eyes turn to steel, expression mullish. “No,” he says. “There’s something wrong with you, Keith, and I need to figure it out.”

“There’s nothing wrong with me…”

“You really don’t see it, do you?” Shiro laughs. It’s not a nice sound. “God, Keith. No one gets defensive like that over being asked to eat, unless they’ve got a problem with food.” He narrows his eyes. “You’re pale, you’ve got bruises under your eyes, and your cheekbones could cut glass.”

“What’s your point?” Keith asks, crossing his arms and glaring down at the floor. He doesn’t give a shit about how he looks. 

“You look _sick,_ Keith.”

“I’m fine,” Keith grits out, clenching his jaw. He steps closer and pokes a finger into Shiro’s chest, now glaring up at him. “You don’t get to come here and act like you give a shit about me, Shiro. A simple apology isn’t going to magically make us better! I’m not sick! There’s nothing wrong with me! Just let me be.” He moves past him, suddenly wanting to go on a run, burn away all these horrid feelings, and pauses in front of the door. “Oh, and don’t you dare tell anyone about what you saw earlier.”

Shiro says nothing, and Keith takes that as an affirmative answer. He storms out of the room, blood pumping and anger making him tense. He really should run.

❄ ❄ ❄

The others figure that they can track Allura down using quintessence. Namely, Keith and Lance’s quintessence, considering how connected they are to her. Keith hasn’t had any Allura dreams since then, and he hasn’t had any glimpse of her while wandering around the castle. 

Whenever he’s with the other Paladins, he avoids looking at Shiro.

Anger still simmers beneath his skin, threatening to coax the flames alive. It’s easier to not look at him than it is to be angry all the time, so he does exactly that. He focuses on all the tests that Hunk and Pidge put him through, focuses on the connection between himself and Allura, and focuses on ways to avoid eating in front of the others.

They seem to be picking up on his issues with food, because suddenly they’re giving him things to try, sharing the snacks they’re chowing down on, pinning him in his seat with his stares and only looking away if he bites into something. 

But biting into something doesn’t necessarily mean that he has to swallow it, though.

He can pretend that he’s wiping his face when he brings his napkin up to his mouth, discreetly spit the bite into the napkin and hide it in his fist. It’s better this way, anyways. All the food here is well-spiced, well garnished, and tasting it on his tongue for a second makes him want to throw up. It’s too much for him (especially since he hasn’t had something like that in so long).

His hip bones turn sharper, his veins become more prominent, and his fingers can fit into the grooves of his ribs. His collarbones pop out, and his eyes seem permanently bruised. His hands don’t stop shaking, and breathing is difficult, at times.

And when he does eat (a handful of nuts, or a small piece of something), he ends up nauseous for hours. He can’t handle the smell of food anymore, and ends up ‘taking’ his meals in his room more often than not (and they all end up in the trash chute).

It’s wasteful, and the orphaned, lonely kid inside him is screaming at him for not savoring it, for not saving it for later—because he doesn’t know when he’s going to eat next—but Keith doesn’t care.

He doesn’t care that he’s losing more weight, he doesn’t care that he can no longer eat, he doesn’t care about the concerned looks his friends direct at him, he doesn’t care about himself.

He’s fading away, and he doesn’t care.

❄ ❄ ❄

“Is it nice out there?” Keith wonders.

They’re both sitting in the hangar, near one of the pods, and his voice echoes in the mostly empty room. Allura looks over at him, looking less like a ghost now, and smiles sadly.

“It’s nice,” she says quietly. “Peaceful, too.” She sighs, head tipped back against the wall. “But I want to come home.”

Keith mulls that over and nods. He can understand that sentiment. He used to _feel_ that sentiment—except his home was a person, someone who kicked him to the curb without any explanation.

“We should have gone with you,” he says instead, regret and guilt dripping from his words. “We shouldn’t have left you alone.”

A hand covers his own, Allura’s soft voice caressing his ear and the smell of juniberries surrounding them, “It was meant to be this way, Keith.”

❄ ❄ ❄

“We could try to use your quintessence to see if we can track her that way,” Pidge is saying, sitting next to him. “We’d be working with some Alteans, though. I’m not as knowledgeable in that field, and no one’s as good as…” she trails off and falls silent.

Keith manages a smile. “No one’s as good as Allura,” he agrees, taking a sip of his Altean tea. His body can handle that, at least. He stares down at the table, mouth twisting. “Do you think it would have made a difference if we went with her?” he asks quietly.

Pidge stops tapping her keyboard, and when Keith glances over he sees the frown on her face. “I don’t know,” she says, finally. “What she did was… pretty much impossible, and it’s beyond what I can normally calculate. Maybe all of our combined quintessence would have helped, or maybe it would have been too much and we could have caused all the realities to implode. Who knows.”

“Who knows,” Keith repeats quietly, Allura’s words echoing in his head.

_It was meant to be this way, Keith._

He goes back to drinking his tea, and Pidge goes back to her calculations. His body thrums with anticipation, despite his permanent exhaustion. Keith looks around the room, seeing everyone hard at work, helping them solve their Allura problem, and his eyes catch Shiro’s gaze.

His breath hitches, and he quickly looks away. He wraps both hands around his mug and takes a big drink, feeling the warmth spread through him. It seems like a chill has settled in his bones, these days.

They soon get to the quintessence part, with Lance saying that he’d rather get it over with quickly so they can go out and find Allura. The sooner, the better. Keith adds his own agreement, and soon they’re being sat down while a few Alteans hover over them.

And then—

Keith feels something pulling at his chest, making him lose his breath for a moment. Then, the sensation pulsates through him, ice spreading through his veins. After a while, he realizes that he can’t breathe, and that his chest feels like it’s being split open. He wonders if someone’s cracking his ribs open, trying to reach his empty heart, and his head feels dizzy.

He hears shouts of his name, and then it all goes dark.

❄ ❄ ❄

Keith opens his eyes to a bright light. It makes his stomach roll with nausea, and he quickly shuts them again. His head hurts, and it feels like he’s underwater. Muffled voices filter in, but he can’t make out what they’re saying. A hand strokes through his hair, and it’s soothing enough for him to slip into darkness.

When he opens his eyes again, he’s in a dimly-lit room. He struggles to push himself up, and his head swims when he looks around. He’s surprised to see Shiro slumped in a chair next to the bed he’s lying on, and he wonders what happened.

He doesn’t want to wake Shiro (doesn’t want to be around him at all, really), so he sits there and tries to recall the situation he’s in (if there even is one). It comes to him slowly, hazy recollections that he’s not sure are real, and then, suddenly, he remembers it all.

His face burns with embarrassment—he passed out in front of everyone! And then, fear trickles in. Did they all find out about his… _thing?_

Keith doesn’t want to stick around to know the truth, so he carefully slides off the bed and stands up. His head spins when he does so, and he’s reminded of the headache that he has. Still, he slowly makes his way over to the door, eyeing the scanner on the wall. 

He places his hand on it and jumps when it shines red, denying him access. Keith scowls and tries again, only to get the same message.

“You won’t be able to get out of here.”

Keith whirls around and sees that Shiro’s awake, hair mussed and eyes ringed with exhaustion. He’s staring at Keith impassively, a frown on his face. “Come back to bed,” he says, voice soft. “You need your rest.”

 _What does that mean?_ Keith asks himself, panic starting to come in. _What the fuck does that mean?_

“I’m fine,” he says, voice wavering. He shifts impatiently by the door, starting to feel a little dizzy. Keith’s certain that he’s swaying in place, but he still doesn’t move. “Just let me out.”

“No,” Shiro replies.

Keith lets out an irritated breath, nails digging into the palms of his hands when he curls them into fists. He manages a weak glare in Shiro’s direction, vision swimming from his headache. “Let me out,” he tries again, unable to keep the bite of anger out of his voice.

“No,” Shiro says, crossing his arms.

“Let me out,” Keith repeats, a little too desperate. His knees are shaking more, and he has to put one hand on the wall to stand. “I don’t want to be here, Shiro. Let me out, let me out, LET ME O—”

His legs give out, but Shiro’s already there and ready to catch him. Keith leans against him, utterly humiliated and near tears. He stays silent as Shiro helps him over to the bed, watches as Shiro pulls back the covers, and then lies under them unprompted.

“It’s either here or the hospital,” Shiro says bluntly, dropping into the chair beside the bed. “And I know how you feel about hospitals, so I guess we’re stuck here.”

“We?” Keith repeats incredulously. “There’s no ‘we,’ Shiro.”

“There is when I’m staying with you.”

Keith stares at Shiro with wide eyes. “What do you mean by that?” he asks. 

Shiro rubs a hand over his face, looking much older than he actually is. “You’re severely underweight, Keith,” he says bluntly. “And you passed out because of lack of food, and the drain on your quintessence didn’t help things.”

“I’m fine,” Keith denies.

“You could die, Keith.”

And suddenly, Keith’s back to being mad. Who fucking cares whether he lives or dies? And why the fuck does Shiro get to decide if he does or not? 

“I don’t need a fucking babysitter,” he hisses, and then turns over so he doesn’t have to look at Shiro.

“Maybe you don’t,” Shiro says, and Keith can hear him moving away. “But I’m still not going to leave your side, Keith. I want to help you.”

Ignoring the fact that Shiro’s still in the room, Keith buries his face in his pillow and silently cries.

❄ ❄ ❄

Allura visits him in a dream, both of them surrounded by a grayish glow. She looks more solid this time, more real, and Keith welcomes the sight, even though she’s gazing at him with an expression of sorrow.

“Keith,” she says mournfully. “What happened?”

Keith frowns. “What do you mean?”

“You tell me. Look down at yourself.”

He follows her instruction, surprised to see himself look… translucent, a mirror image of what Allura used to look like when he first started seeing her. “What is this?” he asks slowly, looking back at her. “Why am I like this?”

Allura takes a seat on the floor, patting the empty space beside her (despite the fact that they’re surrounded by empty space). “Have a seat, Keith,” she says, and suddenly they’re in a juniberry flower field, the scent pleasant. 

He slowly sits down, feeling weighed down by something. Keith wonders what could be doing that. 

“Keith,” Allura says, and he glances over at him. “You’re dying.”

“Am I?” Keith asks dully. He looks down at his hands, seeing through them. “Is that why I’m like this?”

“Partly,” she says, sitting up a little bit straighter. “You see, my bond with Voltron and the Paladins tethered me to life, allowing me to have the chance to come back after I was done.” She lets out a breath. “And it’s doing the same for you, Keith.”

“But… why?”

“Perhaps Voltron still has need for us,” Allura muses. “Or, perhaps the bonds you have with your friends are strong enough to keep you tethered to life, even though you’re so eager to throw it away.” There’s no judgement in her gaze, but Keith still averts his. “Why are you so keen on giving up, Keith?”

“I just…” Keith starts to reply, but finds that it’s hard to articulate it into words. He settles for a helpless shrug, watching as he becomes a little more translucent. “Will the Paladins make it to you in time?” he asks next, desperate to change the subject.

Allura arches a brow, like she knows what he’s doing, but allows it. “Yes,” she says with a smile, which quickly fades when she gazes at him solemnly. “But will they make it back in time for you?”

❄ ❄ ❄

Keith wakes up to Shiro’s blurry face above him, and the feeling of something wet on his cheeks. He tries to swat Shiro away, but finds that his limbs feel too heavy. He tries to speak, but his mouth feels like it’s stuffed with cotton, and his head is fuzzy.

It takes a while for the world around him, noise coming in, and what registers is Shiro’s desperate chanting of his name, to which he responds with a disgruntled, “Huh?”

“Keith!” Shiro gasps. “You’re awake! Thank the stars!” He pulls Keith against him, hands gentle, and Keith’s still so confused.

“Wha’ happen’d?” he murmurs, smacking his lips.

“You wouldn’t wake up,” Shiro says in a shaky voice, leaning back. Now, Keith can see that he was crying—still is, sort of. “And you were really pale and I got scared, Keith.” He brushes away Keith’s hair, and Keith stiffens at he contact. Shiro doesn’t seem to notice. “You’re okay,” he murmurs, relief in his voice. “You’re okay.”

 _I guess I almost died,_ Keith realizes. He feels no shock, no panic, over the idea. Actually, he’s numb to the news.

“Sorry,” he finally says, closing his eyes. Thinking is hard. “M’okay now, S’rry.”

“You’re not okay, Keith. I don’t know how you can think that’s okay.” Something soft wipes his face, and then his face is no longer wet. “Please…” Shiro’s voice is ragged, desperate. “Please don’t do this to me, Keith. I can’t lose you.”

“Why d’you care?” Keith grumbles, darkness threatening to overtake him.

“Oh, Keith,” is all he hears, and then he slips under and knows nothing for a while.

❄ ❄ ❄

Shiro’s still in the room the next time he wakes up.

He has a bowl of food with him, something that has no scent, but Keith can’t stand the sight of it. He lies back down and keeps his back to Shiro, ignoring his frustrated sigh.

After that, he refuses to say a word to the other man. He also refuses to eat, but dutifully complies with it only when Shiro threatens to start feeding it to him, like he’s some kind of child. Keith’s hands shake whenever he lifts the spoon or fork, and he feels panicky whenever he stares down into the bowl of whatever he’s eating.

And whenever he silently cries over the thought of eating it all, Shiro never says a word.

Sometimes, he can’t handle it. He’ll end up bent over the bed, all the food coming right back out while Shiro pulls his hair back and rubs his back. Keith hates throwing up, but there’s a bit of satisfaction over not having the food in him anymore. Shiro also doesn’t give him any more food for the rest of the day, which is a bonus.

Even though Keith chooses to keep his silence, Shiro doesn’t. Shiro talks about where the Paladins are, updates on their progress, how they’re doing out there, how they can’t wait to see Keith when they’re back, all sorts of things that make Keith feel a little guilty.

He should be out there, too. He should be helping them find Allura but instead, he’s confined to a bed because he can’t fucking eat properly.

Keith can’t even be angry about it since it’s his fault that he’s here, and it’s his fault that he doesn’t want to change his ways (or, rather, _can’t_ change his ways).

And it gets worse. He stews in his silence, robotically eating the food that Shiro brings him, throwing up when he can’t handle it, and sleeping most of the day away. He wishes he could escape to the stars, fly out there so he can disappear amongst the cosmos, but he can’t. It’s his own damn fault that he’s stuck like this, him and his inability to eat anything anymore. 

❄ ❄ ❄

“You can’t keep doing this, Keith,” Shiro says with tired eyes.

“We’re worried about you, Keith,” Shiro says with sad eyes.

“This is for your own good, Keith,” Shiro says with resigned eyes.

“We care about you, Keith,” Shiro says with shining eyes.

“You’re killing yourself, Keith,” Shiro whispers one night, holding his frail hand.

Keith smiles humorlessly. “Don’t you know,” he says kindly, speaking for the first time in days. “I’m already dead.”

❄ ❄ ❄

Shiro keeps bringing him food, sitting beside him until Keith manages to force down a few bites. He keeps talking about the Paladins, about the search for Allura, and he keeps encouraging Keith to eat some more, to have another bite, to eat, eat, eat, and every proud smile that he gets from Shiro burns him. How can Shiro be happy when Keith feels like he might burst?

He finds himself getting angrier and angrier until finally—

“Can you stop?” Keith snaps.

Shiro stops talking, an almost hurt look on his face. “What?”

“All of this!” Keith gestures to the room with his spoon, and then glares at the bowl of food resting on his lap. “Especially _this,_ ” he hisses, and then directs his gaze onto Shiro. “Why do you keep bringing me this? Why do you keep staying here? Don’t you have better things to do with your time, Shiro?”

“I’m here because I want to be here,” Shiro says, voice calm. “I bring you food because I want you to eat, I want you to live. And there’s nothing better to do with my time, Keith.”

“Don’t lie to me!” Keith snarls, throwing his bowl of food at the wall. The food splatters against it, bowl clattering to the floor. “I want you to leave me alone!” His body trembles with suppressed rage. “I want you to just let me go! Why can’t you do that! Why can’t you just leave me alone!”

“Because I care about you, Keith,” Shiro replies, looking so agonized. “And I don’t want you to die.” He edges closer, hands raised like he’s calming a feral cat. “I’m not going anywhere, Keith,” he says once he’s within reach, slowly resting a hand on Keith’s shoulder. “I’m gonna help you get through this.”

And just like that, the anger seeps away. Keith’s left with embarrassment, shame, and it sends him to tears. He reaches up and places his hand over Shiro’s, ducking his head and silently sobbing. Shiro doesn’t move throughout it all, and he’s still there when Keith finally lifts his head and wipes the tears away.

“I hate this,” he whispers.

“I know.”

“I don’t want to be here anymore.”

“I know.”

“I don’t want to exist anymore,” Keith says after a while, not looking at Shiro. “I want to stop eating until I finally fade away.” He stares at the bowl he threw earlier, food splattered across the wall and floor. “I don’t want to be a person again. It’s easier when I’m not a person.”

“I understand,” Shiro says patiently, and Keith knows that he isn’t saying it out of pity—Shiro _gets_ it, of course he does.

Keith sniffles and wipes his face again, the salt from his tears making his cheeks itch. “Sorry for getting mad,” he murmurs, gesturing to the bowl. “And sorry for making a mess.”

“It’s okay, Keith. You’re entitled to some anger.” Shiro smiles a little. “It was kind of a relief, honestly. You’ve been here for a while now, and you’ve barely reacted to anything. I was getting really worried.”

They sit in silence, Shiro’s hand moving to rub his back while Keith tries to rein his emotions in. Even though his thing with food always felt like a form of control, he feels more out of control than ever. His emotions are all over the place, his body won’t stop shaking, and he constantly feels cold. 

All in all, he kind of hates things. Still, he doesn’t know if he can get better, doesn’t know if he _wants_ to get better. Life is so much easier when there’s the promise of not waking up in the morning, when there’s a chance that he could simply disappear one day. It’s a scary thought.

“I won’t give up on you, Keith,” Shiro murmurs, giving his bony shoulder a squeeze. “I’m sorry I broke that promise before, but I swear I won’t break it again.

Keith says nothing, but he does relax against him.

Things might not be good right now, but they could be in the future.

❄ ❄ ❄

“I don’t know if I want to stop doing this,” Keith confesses one night, voice quiet. “I don’t think I can let this go.”

Shiro holds his hand again, giving it a gentle squeeze. “I’m going to help you,” he promises with a smile.

And although the thought of losing it is scary to Keith, he still smiles back.

❄ ❄ ❄

He starts eating again.

It’s a very slow process. Sometimes, it takes him longer than an hour to get through a meal. Sometimes, he cries like he did before. Sometimes, he gets angry and refuses to eat. Sometimes, the hunger will overwhelm him and he’ll scarf the food down, making him sick for the rest of the day. Sometimes, he’ll eat at his own pace and cry because it’s so good, because he feels good after eating.

And Shiro stays by his side throughout it all.

As they spend more time together, Keith starts to see the kind man that he trusted so many years ago, the man who reached out when Keith needed someone and never left his side. He’ll never forget the pain he went through when the distance between them got larger, but Keith thinks that he’s not angry about it anymore. 

Keith thinks that he could forgive Shiro.

But that’s a scary thought, too. He spent so long being angry at Shiro, trying to forget Shiro, that the idea of forgiving him and welcoming the man back into his life is daunting. What if Keith got too close again? What if Keith started feeling things that he buried long ago? Would Keith just be trapped in a cycle, unable to let go of the man who was once his everything?

 _I don’t want to revolve around Shiro,_ Keith realizes. _I want to learn how to be myself again._

And that thought is _freeing._

❄ ❄ ❄

“I watched a movie once that talked about dying,” Keith tells Allura, the Black Lion looming above them. She looks real enough to touch, this time, and although Keith’s less transparent, he still flickers from time to time. “One character asked the other what it felt like, and you know what he replied?”

“What?” Allura wonders.

“That it was ‘quicker than falling asleep,’” Keith replies, gazing up at Black. “I always thought it’d be that simple and easy, but it’s not.”

“It’s not,” Allura agrees. “But it’s a good comparison.”

“Do you think I’ll find out anytime soon?” Keith dares to ask.

Allura glances over at him, eyes considering, and hums. “I think you’re more living than dead now,” she finally says, nodding to herself. “But you’ve still got a long way to go, and the path you choose is up to you.”

❄ ❄ ❄

“I don’t know if I want to die,” Keith confesses one night, staring up at glowing stars on the ceiling. “I thought I did, but not existing and dying are two different things, in my head.” He looks over at Shiro, who continues to sit beside him despite everything. “Does that make sense?”

“It does,” Shiro says, reaching out to hold his hand. “And I get it.”

Keith nods and turns his attention back to the fake, glowing stars, imagining the real ones. “I think I want to live and be sick,” he says after a while. “But I’m starting to realize that it could kill me, someday, and there’s a part of me that doesn’t care.”

Shiro hums but doesn’t reply, thumb brushing over Keith’s knuckles.

Tears fall from his eyes, staining his cheeks with salt. “I think I stopped caring when we lost her,” he says. “There was just an empty void inside of me, afterwards, and it kept growing bigger and bigger no matter what I did.” He laughs wetly. “It made me feel like I wasn’t real.”

Shiro squeezes his hand and intertwines their fingers, his hold strong and sure. “Well,” he says softly. “You’re real to me, Keith.”

Keith cries and cries, but Shiro’s hand anchors him, reminds him that he’s there, and he thinks, _Maybe I am real._

❄ ❄ ❄

Color comes back to his cheeks, and he has more strength in his limbs. He can walk to the bathroom by himself, although he sometimes needs help making his way back to bed. His hair starts to feel less thin, recovering some of its shine, and he rarely gets sick over eating.

Shiro reintroduces him to more foods, more flavors. He even starts letting him pick what he wants to eat, which does wonders for the part of his brain that desires control over anything.

He also lets his wolf back into the room, a reward for doing so well, and Keith sleeps easier wrapped around the big furry beast, eats better with the wolf’s weight leaning against him, keeping him tethered to the bed.

One day, when he’s going to take a bath, he looks at himself in the mirror and _sees_ what everyone else sees—a sick person on the verge of death. He cries quietly, letting the sound of the running water cover it up, and swears that he sees a shadow behind him.

 _“You’re so strong,”_ Allura’s voice whispers in his ear.

Keith just smiles, watery and weak, and says, “I’ll see you soon.”

After his bath, his hair smells like juniberries.

❄ ❄ ❄

He wakes up with a loud gasp, sitting up in bed and glancing around wildly. Keith places a hand over his chest, as if that could calm his racing heart, and tries to figure out what caused the sudden adrenaline spike.

Shiro is slumped in the chair beside him, despite having another cot for him to sleep in here (he refused to let Keith give up the bed). Keith hears a soft chime from his datapad, followed by several more, and slowly reaches out to grab it. He nearly drops it because of how heavy it is in his frail hand, but manages to deposit it into his lap so he can get a glimpse at the notifications.

And stops.

It’s from all the Paladins, most of them gibberish, but one carrying the details of what they accomplished.

_WE FOUND HER._

Keith doesn’t know he’s crying until salt drips onto his lips and he sniffles, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand. He feels a hand on his shoulder and looks over, seeing Shiro looking at him with concern.

“They found Allura,” he croaks out, gesturing to the datapad.

Shiro’s eyes go wide, and he quickly takes the datapad to look through the messages. Keith lies back on the bed, still crying a little, and stars up at those glow-in-the-dark stars. They have Allura back. They finally have her back.

He reaches up to rub his chest and frowns, wondering why it aches. It’s then that he realizes that the emptiness is no longer within him, that the void has disappeared, and that his connection to the Black Lion is suddenly _there,_ solid and real.

Keith lets out a quiet laugh, reaching out for their bond. The Black Lion feels weak, but their bond pulsates with warmth when he brushes against it. She reaches back to him, and he hears a pleased rumble in his mind, and he gets the sense that she’s happy to be with him again.

“Keith?”

He opens his eyes and looks over, a smile on his face. “The Lions are back,” he says happily. 

Shiro smiles back. “Yeah, they told me.” He holds up his datapad. “They’re on their way home.”

Keith chews on his bottom lip, suddenly worried. “They’re not mad at me, are they?” he asks, hushed. “If I was with them, they could be back faster…”

A hand captures his own, a thumb brushing over his knuckles. “They’re not mad,” Shiro assures. “They just want you to be okay.”

“I’m not,” Keith says honestly. “But I think I will be.”

❄ ❄ ❄

Keith sits outside, waiting for the Paladins (and Allura’s!) return. It took him a long time to get there, feeling out of breath after every few steps, but he was determined to make it there on his own. Shiro walked with him, ready to catch him if he fell and offering an arm for Keith to lean against whenever needed, but Keith still made it there all on his own.

When Shiro said that he was proud of Keith, he may have preened a little.

Even with the suns shining down on him, Keith’s still cold. He wraps his arms around himself and shivers, startling when he feels something cover it. He looks at it and sees that it’s Shiro’s jacket, which prompts him to glance up at the man.

“This is yours,” Keith says, trying to take it off.

Shiro’s hands stop him. “It’s fine, Keith,” he says kindly. “I don’t want you to get cold.”

Keith feels something in him warm, and he buries his face in the collar of Shiro’s jacket to hide his (surely) flushed cheeks. He refrains from breathing in too deep. Don’t go there, Keith.

He keeps his eyes fixed at the sky at some point, feeling that the Lions are nearing them. When they finally enter the atmosphere, all in a line, the sight is glorious. His chest pulsates with warmth again, and hears Black purring in his mind. Keith lets out a delighted laugh, wishing he could run over when they all finally land.

This time, he lets Shiro help him over, ready to greet his friends now that their journey’s over. Despite the jacket around his shoulders, he still trembles with a chill, and he burrows into Shiro’s side like he can absorb his warmth.

All of the Lions (except Black) lower their jaws and extend their ramps, and out come their Paladins. Keith’s eyes flit from person to person, stopping on Allura and staying there. She’s wearing the same armor, her hair is in the same style, and the smile on her face is the same as always. He nearly lurches out of Shiro’s hold, desperate to make sure she’s real, but she quickly strides over and stops in front of him.

“Keith,” she says, and then pulls him in for a hug.

Keith immediately wraps his arms around her, squeezing her the best he can (which isn’t much, considering his lack of strength). She laughs, and it’s so wonderful and real, and Keith just has to pull back to look at her.

“It’s good to see you,” he says with a smile.

She gazes at him with no pity, only joy. “It’s good to see you, too,” she says, and then her face saddens. “I’m sorry, Keith. I don’t think my reaching out to you helped one bit.”

Keith shakes his head. “I made my own choices,” he tells her. “And now I have to live with them.” He glances over at Shiro really quick. “Besides, I’m not dealing with it alone anymore.”

“Group hug!” Lance suddenly exclaims.

Everyone crowds around him, laughing and giggling, and Keith laughs along with them. It’s getting a little warm in there, but he doesn’t dare try to leave. They’re all together again, pieces aligned and voids filled, and Keith would prefer to be here.

❄ ❄ ❄

Everyone stays at the Castle for the time being, wanting to spend more time with Allura (as well as give Keith a place to ‘recover,’ in their words). His mother comes over after he messages her that he’s going to take leave from the Blades, indefinitely, and all she does is wrap him up in her arms and hold him in bed.

“I’m glad you’re trying to be okay,” she murmurs. “I don’t know what I would have done if I lost you.”

Keith ends up with his face buried in her shoulder, crying in guilt and shame. During his downward spiral, he never even considered the other people in his life. He didn’t even care that he’d be leaving people behind if he did actually fade away, and now he realizes how fucked up that was.

When he voices this thought to Shiro, the man looks at him sympathetically.

“It is fucked up,” he says. “But you can’t choose to do things for other people, Keith. You have to learn how to do things, and want things, for yourself. That includes living, too. Others can be motivators, sure, but it’s still up to you, in the end.”

“Is that what you did?” Keith wonders.

Shiro wraps an arm around him, tugging Keith against his side. “Yes.”

Keith also spends time with Allura, the two of them sitting together (since she needs to recover as well, being in a quintessence-filled void to fix all realities took a toll on her) while they talk about anything and nothing. It’s easy being around her, since she saw him at his worst, knew his inner thoughts at his worst, and she still doesn’t judge him for it.

“I’m glad you’re here,” Keith says one day, glancing over at her.

She smiles at him. “I’m glad you’re here too,” she replies.

❄ ❄ ❄

Recovery is hard.

It’s something that Keith learns pretty quickly. He doesn’t feel like he’s recovering when eating sometimes makes him cry. He doesn’t feel like he’s recovering when he eats something that triggers his gag reflex, and he’s too sick to do anything for the rest of the day. He doesn’t feel like he’s recovering when he looks in the mirror and sees himself filling out, unable to feel the protruding bone that he used to find comfort in tracing not so long ago.

But his friends are there with him every step of the way. His mother and wolf are right beside him, and Shiro still refuses to leave his side.

And it helps. It helps a lot.

He puts on enough weight to be close to healthy, and everyone becomes more lax with their observations. By then it doesn’t matter, Keith can make his way through a meal (with smaller portions, since his stomach is still attempting to heal from all the lack of food it got), and he can even pick food out for himself.

All too soon, everyone’s going their separate ways—back to their old lives and jobs. His mother even leaves, claiming that she can’t leave the Blades alone for too long. She kisses the top of his head and tells him to take as much time as he needs, if he still needs it, but the Blades will always have an open spot for him.

Keith waits until he’s a little healthier, until the idea of being alone isn’t at all daunting, and decides to set out on his own for a while before returning to the Blades. He won’t be so separated from his friends, his family, thanks to the return of the Lions, so that’s enough assurance that he can make it out there on his own.

He wants to go out and explore the stars, to find his love for life again, to find his love for himself. Keith wants to relearn how to be a person, wants to relearn how to enjoy all the things he used to enjoy, and wants to make peace with the new person he’s becoming.

And finally, he’s able to start making that journey.

❄ ❄ ❄

“Wait!”

Keith turns and frowns, watching as Shiro makes his way over to their side of the hangar. “What’s up?” he asks, dropping a hand to pet the wolf’s fur. “Did I forget something?”

“No,” Shiro says with a shake of his head, and then smiles brightly. “I’m coming with you.”

Arching a brow, Keith flatly says, “What.”

“I’m coming with you!” Shiro repeats, grin not faltering.

“I don’t need a babysitter,” Keith snaps, feeling humiliated. “I can eat on my own now, Shiro. And I promised you guys that if I slipped up, I would make sure to call one of you guys.” He side-eyes the wolf. “And if I don’t, he’d find a way to contact you.”

The wolf bobs his head.

“I’m not coming because of that,” Shiro says, face earnest. “I’m coming because I want to be with you, Keith. I want to explore the stars with you.” He looks away for a moment. “I made the mistake of letting you go before, and I don’t want to do that again.” Shiro looks back at Keith, and Keith’s breath hitches at the intensity in his gaze. “I want to stay by your side, Keith. Until the end of my days, and even beyond that.”

“That’s…” _a confession,_ Keith realizes with wide eyes. He averts his gaze and stares down at the floor, heat rising to his cheeks. It’s something that he always wanted to hear, and a part of him is dancing with joy and disbelief, but the other part of him… 

“I can’t give you what you want,” Keith says quietly. “I’m still relearning how to be myself, relearning how to love life, and I can’t do all of that while—”

“I know,” Shiro interjects, voice kind. “Keith, I don’t expect anything from you. I just wanted you to know, and I wanted you to believe that I’m going because I want to, and that it has nothing to do with ‘babysitting’ or whatever. I trust you, Keith, and I trust that you’ll keep your promise.”

Keith relaxes a little, relieved, and smiles up at him. “Okay,” he says. “You can come with me.”

❄ ❄ ❄

It’s not perfect.

Keith still struggles with eating sometimes, and will slip back into old habits. He’ll get angry with Shiro and snap at him whenever he pushes Keith to eat during these times, but Shiro never gets angry or tries to force him to eat. He’ll reason with Keith, bargain with him, and he somehow ends up coaxing Keith back from his old headspace and back into his new, fresh one.

When he reaches his original weight, and spies a hint of his abs, Keith cries and cries. They’re tears partly out of sadness, his old headspace rearing its head and reminding him of all that weight on his bones, but they’re also mostly out of joy. He’s healthy again, and Shiro looks so fucking proud, and that’s all that really matters.

The next time he cries is when he’s trying some new alien cuisine at a restaurant they stop at. It’s so fucking delicious that he just cries out of nowhere, happy that he can enjoy food again. Shiro’s alarmed, of course, but then he’s smiling softly when Keith manages to explain why he’s crying, and Keith keeps that image tucked away.

Shiro and Keith get closer and closer, their friendship strengthened by their hardships and their proximity. They’re comfortable enough to share the same bed, which helps with Shiro’s nightmares, and comfortable enough to cuddle with each other when they’ve had a bad day. 

Keith feels like he should be scared when a fluttery feeling awakens in his heart after Shiro smiles at him one morning, hair mussed and still looking sleepy, but he’s not. He’s starting to feel like himself again, and he’s starting to appreciate life with new eyes—if loving Shiro is his reward for all of this, then Keith’s going to take it. 

He deserves it. They both do.

When they stop by New Altea to visit their friends later that month, they’re welcomed with a feast. Keith paces himself through the meal, and Shiro’s hand resting between his shoulder blades reminds him that it’s okay to eat what he likes, to try new things, and that it’s okay to be happy about it. 

Later that night, he takes a walk around New Altea with Shiro by his side. They talk about everything and nothing, and then let a comfortable silence surround them when they reach the juniberry field. He crouches down and gently brushes his fingers over the delicate petals, enjoying the scent they give off.

“Keith.”

“Hmm?” Keith looks up at Shiro, heart fluttering over the soft look in his eyes. “What is it?”

Shiro says nothing for a while, simply watching him, and then directs his store towards the horizon, where the suns are beginning to set. “You look happy,” he says.

Keith rises, dusting off his pants, and looks at Shiro’s face. “I am,” he replies, reaching out to grasp Shiro’s hand. “I’m happy here, Shiro.”

 _I’m happy with you,_ goes unsaid.

Shiro looks at him again and leans in. Keith’s eyes flutter shut, bracing himself for what’s to come, but then he feels lips against his forehead, soft and lingering, and then Shiro pulls away. He opens his eyes in confusion, cheeks warming at the tender smile on Shiro’s face.

“Me too,” Shiro says.

Keith smiles back, the same smile, and gazes at the two sunsets. He keeps holding Shiro’s hand, warm and sure, and thinks, _I’ll be okay._

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you.


End file.
